Three years.

Roughly a month ago marked three years since Nicholas had seen her face. Three years since he'd up and left the way he did. It was obvious that she was going to be upset. Angry. Furious. Still, he had to see her. He almost wished it was under different circumstances -- no, he did wish it was under different circumstances. It wasn't his full conscious choice to come see her now. He almost had to. He needed her help. It wasn't Jacob this time. He could handle Jacob. It was others. There were others like them. Other humans who had been taken captive and used as lab rats. Some who had turned out exactly like them -- wings, strength, speed. It was almost unbelievable. The first time Nicholas had come across another super mutant, one who wasn't himself, Jacob, or Mattie, he thought he was hallucinating.

She was a small girl. Roughly 4'10", if he had to guess. She was extremely skinny, and that was probably from lack of proper nutrition. Flying around took a toll on one's body, which meant that an immense amount of extra calories were needed to keep a healthy weight. It looked like this girl was eating less than a normal human's calorie intake each day, as well as going about doing extra flying training. Yet, she was aggressive. Angry. She wanted to fight. Nicholas had no intention to hurt her. He knew he could tear her into a million pieces of he wanted to.

The first hit was unexpectedly hard. In fact, as much as he'd hate to admit it, it knocked Nicholas to the ground. The girl was growling and her eyes were glowing red -- much like Nicholas' own when he got extremely angry. Needless to say, he was very confused and very taken aback. He picked himself up off the ground and touched a hand to his mouth only to withdraw bloody fingertips.

What the hell, he said to himself in awe. The girl lunged at him again, but this time he expertly dodged her. It was as if that single miss tore her apart, and she fell to the ground, her head hitting the concrete with a gut-wrenching crunch. Her wings twitched pathetically, slowly spreading out as if she were planning to try to take flight. Nicholas took pity upon her, pulled her to an abandoned building, hoped she would survive, and took off. There was nothing else he could do in the shocked state he was in.

The constant traveling and absence of Mattie didn't push Jacob away. For some reason, the sorry piece of trash was still dead set on killing Nicholas. Nicholas had no idea what his brother possibly had to gain from killing him. Was Nicholas important? Was something being left out of this story that his mother or the scientists hadn't revealed? He didn't know. He didn't plan to ever know. He just planned to one day kill his brother or reason it out with him. The latter seemed almost impossible until the last encounter he'd had with Jacob.

Nicholas was lying face-first on a less-traveled road miles out of the city limits. Another female super mutant stood over him with a look of malicious triumph. It took most of his strength to lift his head up and glare into her eyes, and then it simply fell back down again. "Poor thing," the woman said. "You look so pathetic."

He felt pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Not only had he been practically knocked out by a female, but now she was taunting him. It was like a gift from Heaven when he heard footsteps against the asphalt approaching, and heard the woman give a startled gasp. When Nicholas looked up again, he saw his brother squeezing the life out of her, then he himself blacked out. For a while, he was sure he was dead. Jacob had killed the woman and him both. But when he awoke, he was on a couch. A very, very soft couch.

"What?" was the first word that came out of his mouth. "What happened?"

"Take this," Jacob said, expression extremely stoic. A syringe was presented to Nicholas, and he eyed it skeptically.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Don't ask," his brother replied, "because I don't know. I just know it'll... it'll make you feel better."

Although it had been Jacob's sole goal to kill him for years, something inside of Nicholas told him to trust his brother. After all, if this mystery mixture killed him, there would be nothing left to lose. Yet something about Jacob seemed calmer. Kinder. More trustworthy.

Long story short, the injection, whatever it was, made him stronger for a time. His flying was better. His strength was, well, strong. Speed, faster. Then, when it all faded, he was advised to simply take another hit. And he did this for a solid year. Now, it had been a month since the three year mark of Mattie's absence. Or, rather, Nicholas' absence from Mattie. There was a four-digit number written on a torn piece of paper in Nicholas' left hand and a bouquet of roses in his right. Climbing up the porch steps, he approached the door in front of him, numbers across the surface matching the ones on the paper. Paper shoved in pocket. Shaking hand lifted.

Knock, knock, knock.

Mattie had only been home for around... twenty minutes, maybe. She'd been flying all day, and it had taken a lot out of her. Luckily, she got paid more at the liquor store than she probably deserved, which meant that she had money to pay for rent and utilities in addition to her high energy needs and alcoholism. As a result of this perfect deal she'd snagged almost three years ago now, after Nick had left her like the piece of shit she should have known he was, she'd become a quite impressive flyer, as well as an impressive drinker, and a fairly good brawler (which was needed at the occasional bar). What was less impressive was her ability to stay in therapy. She'd decided about a month into her sessions that the shrink she was seeing was a complete prick.

Today was her day off, which was why she'd been flying through the hours. She'd stopped at a fast food chain on the way home and ordered... how many again? She counted the paper wrappings along with the yet-unconsumed triple cheeseburgers. Eight burgers. And some hash browns. And some fries. And some salad that she knew she wouldn't eat; she'd only ordered it out of guilt from ordering all those burgers.

"Big family to feed?" the person at the drive-through had asked amiably.

To which of course, Mattie responded, "No way, man, I'm just super stoned."

Now, indulgently, she unwrapped the sixth burger while reclining on the couch. Oh, this was going to be good. She licked her lips, briefly wondered if she was really replenishing those lost calories or just eating herself to death, sank her teeth down into that lovely seared cowflesh...

Knock, knock, knock.

She let loose an irritated growl. No one ever knocked on her door, except for the same two white, greasy-faced Mormon teens every damn week. She'd tried to deter them by asking if they were polygamists. That hadn't worked, so she'd proceeded to ask them how magnets worked. It had only made the situation more awkward and they still came back. So, she'd just about given up on them. She let them come in and sit down, zoned them out while they lectured her, made them coffee, and then told them politely just how terribly busy she was and that she'd think about what they said.

She wasn't in the mood for them while she was pigging out.

"Busy!" she shouted with a huff, and tucked into the sixth burger.

From the other side of the door came a low, irritated growl that Nicholas was able to pick up thanks to his hyper-sensitive ears. A moment ago, he could have sworn he heard a wrapped crinkling around. He wondered if he'd come while she was eating (a.k.a, a bad time.) "Busy!" a voice shouted from the other side. He knew that voice. It was definitely Mattie. There was no mistaken that half-apathetic, half-always-irritated voice.

So, for the moment, Nicholas was standing without a clue on what to do. He waited another couple of minutes before he knocked on the door again.

Knock, knock, knock.

She'd finished the burger now, but she really wanted to move on to the second one. The second set of knocking jarred her again. They were never this persistent. Maybe it was a debt collector? But she tried not to have any debt. A drug dealer? Now, that wouldn't be too shabby. Maybe, she fantasized, it was a moonshine salesman––now that would really knock her socks off. With a very overdone sigh, Mattie heaved herself out of her seat (a magical seat that only became comfortable when she wanted to leave it).

She crossed swiftly to the door, so ready to give this bastard a piece of her mind, ready to shout, "The sign says no soliciting, asshole!" and then slam the door.

Moodily she opened the door just a crack. Nick's face greeted her.

Nope. Wasn't happening. No, no no, not real, not happening, lalalala, and she was so busy telling herself this wasn't reality that she didn't hear herself scream. She did see herself uppercut him, although her fist had moved after she registered that those were roses he was holding.

Swallowing the slight guilt, Mattie slammed the door. Locked it. Bolted it. Dragged a chair from the kitchen to stand across the doorway and provide an extra barricade.

"Ho-lee fuuuuuuuuck," she panted, stumbling into the living room doe-eyed with panic. "Put a fuckin' stick up my asshole and call me a popsicle! What the fuck?!" Her head was spinning. She'd decided after he'd abandoned her that she never wanted to see him again. Forever and ever, and even after that. She'd also figured he wouldn't bother coming back. Or that he'd been killed by Jacob and she'd never found out.

Now here were the tears. She knew the cure to those.

Well, it all happened a little too quick for even Nicholas to react.

Unfortunately, his reflexes, while quicker and sharper than an average human's, were inferior to Mattie's. So when her fist came flying at his face with a simultaneous scream erupting from her throat, the only thing he managed to do before being hit was open his mouth and get the first syllable of her name out. Somehow, as he tumbled to the concrete and nearly busted his head open from the sheer force of her punch, he managed to keep clutching the rose bouquet. A heavy weight tugged his heart as he heard the door shut and lock while he lay, shocked, in front of her residence.

Finally, he sat up, took a breath, and wiped the blood that was gushing from his nose, which did no good because his nostrils were now the host of Hemoglobin Falls. The spot where his head had hit the concrete seemed to be stinging and numb at the same time, however that was possible. And now the roses that he'd bought for her were completely crushed and mangled. If he weren't so angry, he might would have cried.

After he managed to compose himself, which took several moments of listening to Mattie yell bizarre curses from inside her home, Nicholas stood up and tried again. He knocked softer. He dared to speak her name, "Mattie?"

The neighbors were probably getting a little worried. The cat lady next door rarely went outside, but she often peeked out her windows with a cat nestled in her arms. She was a sweet old woman, and this extremely brief consideration for an uninvolved human being made Mattie feel bad.

She was crying, and it wasn't a Disney princess cry either. It was ugly crying, with her face contorted into a grimace and her nostrils flaring and the occasional strangled, weird-sounding whimper coming from her throat. Her mind was racing, outpacing itself; she was tripping over her own frantic thoughts to get to the next one. Why was he here? How had he found her? Why now? When she'd almost managed to cleanse her mind of the invasive feelings of missing him after what he'd done?

She yanked open the fridge and pulled out a full bottle of vodka. Then she started chugging. A little bit spilled down her face.

One thing was certain: Mattie was a complete mess. She was too afraid to respond to Nick and betray the emotion in her voice, which by now would definitely be wavering if she tried to speak. Maybe if she pretended not to be home, he'd just go away!

Except she knew he wouldn't.

She paused from drinking, set the bottle down hard on the counter, wiped her eyes and gathered her strength.

"Why don't you pack up and fuck off for three more years, you fucking used tampon?!"

That was it. Nicholas was here for a reason, and it wasn't to fight with her over where he had or hadn't been for the past three years. He was finding it hard to understand her point of view -- he was here now. Why couldn't she just be happy about that? Before they started getting involved in who knows what was to come, he wanted to at least have a moment of happiness with her. It didn't look like it was going to happen that way.

The roses were flung onto the ground. He picked a foot up and used all of his strength and force to propel it toward the door, kicking the door down, quite literally, when that wasn't quite his intention. A concerned neighbor poked their head out of a nearby house, and Nicholas stood there awkwardly looking between the neighbor and the Mattie.

That...was a little unexpected. It was also going to cost a lot, and whoever would be out to repair her door was bound to ask questions. Questions she didn't want to answer. Questions that involved whether Mattie should get a restraining order. This was what tumbled through her head in split-second flashes as she stared in shocked silence at the man who'd left three years ago, who now would not go away.

She wiped her face with the back of her arm, glaring at Nick. She was going to go off on him... when she got herself together, at least.

The neighbor took in the entire scene wide-eyed and raised a massive, ancient looking corded telephone, beginning to dial.

"Noooo," Nicholas drawled in an almost singing voice, facing the neighbor. "No no no, it's just -- there's been a misunderstanding," he insisted. His hands were raised in surrender, showing he had no weapons. No ill intent. No evil intent at all. He glanced at Mattie with a pleading look, but she already looked dead set on killing him herself. "I...I'll fix it," he nodded emphatically at the neighbor, stepping over the broken door's threshold.

Mattie took a deep breath and forced herself to step out, following Nick. The last thing either of them needed was a swarm of police asking them questions. She didn't even know what was happening, herself, especially now that Ms. What's-her-face was getting involved.

She contorted her face into the most fake smile she'd ever had the displeasure of making.

Glancing between the two young'ns, the old woman opened her window. A loud meow and faint smell of cat urine emanated from within. Phone still in her hand, she addressed Mattie. "Who is this?"

"O-oh! This is just, just an old friend. Hah!" She punched Nick's shoulder a little too hard. "The door, um, that was an accident."

"What was the screaming?"

Jesus, the lady was nosy. "It was um...happiness? So sorry for the noise, ma'am. How's Mr. Buttermilk Pancakes doing?"

And immediately, the elderly neighbor was beaming.

The punch that Nicholas received was probably deserved -- wait a minute, no it wasn't. He'd just been knocked out! His nose was bleeding, damn it! As if suddenly remembering this, he put a finger under his nose to test if the blood was still flowing. It wasn't, but there was definitely blood crusted onto his upper lip. For the moment, he took to breathing through his mouth... until he could blow his nose.

With an extremely nervous laugh, Nicholas waved a hand to the neighbor and picked the door up, propping it enough to cover the doorway. Unfortunately, the cold winter air from outside still seeped in.

He turned to Mattie and crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. "I had roses for you! Do you know how long it took to find your house when literally nobody knows you?! I mean, the first thing you do is punch me in the face and slam the door on me, like I'm nothing! Like--" he lowered his voice, realizing he was starting to yell and the door didn't provide much of a sound barrier now. "I just -- God, not even--" he shook his head, visibly hurt and distraught.

Mattie watched as the door was propped up. Maybe she should have been relieved at the privacy they had again, but she wasn't, because now here they were again at square one: Nick at her doorstep, completely uninvited, now evidently angry at her over over the justified assault from moments before. It rekindled her fury, made her snarl and back away from him. Like an animal.

"Don't you dare act like this is my fault!" she raised her voice to the point of it cracking; she was unafraid of neighbors hearing the argument. "You just up and fucking left me without any warning, without even telling me why! I worried myself sick about you! Those first weeks without you, I––" She restrained herself: mentioning her emotional reaction to Nick's absence three years ago would only make her seem weak, and right now she wanted to intimidate him. So she picked herself up again, her incisors flashing as she spat more words.

"And then you come back here like some kind of fucking stalker and expect those stupid little fucking flowers to make me forget everything! Did you expect me to treat you like a good old friend?! Did you expect me to suck your dick right then and there?! And speaking of that––" she paused, very briefly, only to take in a breath–– "why'd you come back anyway, huh? Were you not getting enough pussy out by yourself? Poor little fucking Nicholas! 'Wah wah, the only people I can get to touch my crotch are the herpes-positive hookers out back of the dry cleaners, sure wish Mattie were here!'"

For a moment as she picked up the bottle of vodka, it looked as if she were going to smash it or throw it at him. She knew better, taking a very impressive several gulps of the stuff. Then she set it down, hard.

"Grow the fuck up," she concluded her tirade with a growl prickling her throat. "You can't just up and leave someone, only to visit when it suits you. Get out of my house."

It felt better once he'd gotten out all of that initial anger from his rude greeting. Before he could bother to speak up again, Mattie was already pleading her case to him. Her emotions, her rage -- and man, did it show. As she spewed out all of the hurt and anger she'd obviously been letting simmer inside of her for the past three years, Nicholas stood straight, arms crossed, fists clenched, jaw tightened. He stared at her, forcing his eyes to stay dry. Forcing his expression to remain stoic. It took most of his emotional and mental strength not to shoot back every reason and every excuse, every good reason and every good excuse he had. He was biting his tongue so hard that he could taste blood.

Mattie finished with an order for him to leave. At the moment, that was not going to happen. In a few minutes, that might happen. But he was not going to leave with her so exaggeratedly angry with him. Maybe it wasn't as exaggerated as he thought, but he wasn't going to let it continue to boil over like this. He could hear the growl in her voice. He could hear the pain. And that almost broke him. Almost.

"It's not your fault," he said. His voice was calm and steady, with only a underlining of shakiness. "I know it's my fault. I left you. While you were hurt, no less. I didn't tell you why. I just...left. I know. It seemed right at the time, and in the long run, it was for the best. I'll be able to explain it all. I know it won't excuse a thing. It won't excuse the pain you or I have felt these past three years. You're not the only one that hurt. There were times that I just wanted to say screw everything, screw our safety--" he choked over his words, throat drying. "--screw our safety and just...be together again. I couldn't do that. I saw what Jacob did to you. I wasn't going to let that or something worse happen again. He didn't want you. He wanted me."

Heat was pooling to the front of his face and he could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck. For a brief moment, his eyes slipped closed and a heavy breath was drawn.

"I don't know how I expected you to react when I came looking for you, and, well, found you. I really didn't know how you were going to react. I just didn't. I didn't come for sex, Mattie. I didn't...to be honest, I didn't even come for anything sexual. I have not even had sex since-- well, I mean, you know, in the simulation. That's just-- that's not the point. The point is that...that's not what I'm here for." He pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyebrows together in irritation, before composing himself once again. "I don't-- God, I don't want to tell you everything about why I'm here yet, I just wanted to enjoy finally being able to see you again before we had to go and...before...before everything. Just. Before everything went to hell. If everything goes that way. I just want you to be safe. That's all I ever wanted. I didn't mean for it to hurt anyone so bad. I know that sounds screwed up. I know that's not what it seems like. I know it did hurt you. But I couldn't come back. Not after I'd already left. Not after I'd already led him so far away from you."

He stopped there and began to chew on his lip. He looked away from Mattie and shook his head slightly, then shrugged his shoulders.

Mattie's eyes were smarting with tears again. She tried to contain them, to contain herself, but it was apparent that she could not be contained. Her anger, her tears, her anxiety... she could hold none of it back, and the thought of letting it all go right in front of Nicholas only made it worse.

"You had the nerve," she started shakily, "to treat me like a child, like I didn't know the danger of it..." The first of many tears rolled down her right cheek, and the second down her left, and she was almost holding her breath in to keep from exploding into a mess again. "You only put yourself in danger! Did you think I had no idea what we were up against?! I was willing to take that risk!"

She took a deep breath. The thought of what Jacob had done was still traumatizing, and remembering it, remembering how he plunged with her into the lake and practically tore her apart, made her ability to stay calm even more fragile than it already was. More tears. Mattie knew what was coming, because her eyes smarted more and her nasal cavity was beginning to feel runny.

"I thought sometimes you were dead!" she choked out. "B-because I thought––I––there was no way you could have just left me of your own will!"

And that was it; she was bawling like a four-year-old, heaving out wretched sobs and doubling over with her head in her hands and mucus streaming from both nostrils. It was disgusting. She could almost see herself, making an embarrassment in front of Nick. So much for keeping up the damn act. She tried to grab the bottle, but it just slipped out of her hands and spilled all over the carpet. So instead, she blundered toward her bedroom where she could lock the door and hope that Nick wouldn't kick it down again.

"Mattie!"

Nicholas did not expect Mattie to burst into tears like that. He did not expect her to break down. It didn't register in his brain when the alcohol spilled onto the carpet, only that Mattie was turning to leave again and he didn't want that to happen. He reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist, firm but not tight. He wrapped his other arm around her, holding her, trying to get her to be still.

"Mattie," he said again, "Stop, stop. It's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Please, just breathe."

Mattie squirmed but half-heartedly. She would have been able to escape Nick's grasp had she really wanted to, but she simply found that she suddenly didn't have the energy to fight him anymore. Accepting his arm around her, she twitched a few times and then, apart from the continued heaving of her sobbing chest, was still.

"W-why––" Something between a sob and a hiccup interrupted her. "Why did––" gross sniffle that didn't do much to clear her nose–– "Why'd you c-come back? After all that time..."

The hold that Nicholas had on her was limp now, allowing her easy freedom if that's what she wanted. She was in an awkward position between her side and her front facing him, so he adjusted her to view her face. At the moment, she looked a wreck. Face wet and red and already swelling from crying, hair frazzled as if it was radiating the negative energy. All in all, Nicholas noticed that she just looked tired. Mentally exhausted. He gathered that her mental and emotional exhaustion was his fault, and it broke his heart. It was never his intention to hurt her so badly.

Inevitably, she questioned his return. In truth, Nicholas hadn't prepared an answer. There was, of course, an actual answer -- but it wasn't one that he wanted to face immediately. It wasn't one that he wanted her to face immediately. It was one that could be put off for at least a couple of months, he figured. So all he could do was stare for a moment, grimace as if he were in pain, then hold her against him, forceful enough that she wouldn't see his face at the moment.

"There's a reason," he said. His voice was finally cracking. It was all finally wearing him down. "I just don't want-- I don't...want...to worry about it right now. Things...have changed. A lot. So much."

It was true, at least, for him. Nicholas was going on to be twenty seven years old in a few months, but his face was rugged and toughened with the remains of battle scars and worry lines. Even his personality had changed -- he went from being a weak, helpless, nerdy coward to an independent, hardened man. His muscles had grown from his training. He'd lost so much weight.

"I know you can take care of yourself," he said. "But...I just want to make sure you're safe through anything that happens and...I just...love you, Mattie."

Mattie felt as though Nick wasn't telling the whole truth to her, but she just didn't want to pursue it right now. Although her crying episode was very slowly beginning to simmer down, she was still reeling from all the feelings and questions and ideas that the man's return had brought on. She mindlessly opened her mouth to ask what had changed, but she thought better of it, instead noticing foggily that she was being held against harder muscles than she remembered.

Perhaps her own muscles had grown too, but it had mostly been her wings that she'd trained. That would work her pecs, but since those were nestled under her boobs she doubted there was any noticeable change.

She traced her fingertips absently along Nick's tricep, her eyelids drooping. It had been a long time since she'd felt this strung out, and right now she was stretched between interrogating him and simply settling for the fact that they were together again. For now. Evidently, it wouldn't be a good idea to count on things staying the same in that regard, at least not yet.

"I'll be safe," she mumbled finally. Her voice sounded weighed down. "I can fly so much better than three years ago. I'm stronger and...so are you."

The exhaustion radiating from Mattie's being was seeping into Nicholas, although her meltdown seemed to be curbing. He felt more peaceful. He felt relief that she was finally calming down, whether from acceptance, exhaustion, or intoxication. The smell of alcohol invaded his nostrils, but it wasn't something he couldn't handle. She lightly began brushing his arm with her fingertips, and this familiar feel of physical contact only relaxed Nicholas even more. For a moment, his eyes slipped closed. Then she spoke.

"I'll be safe," she mumbled. The second the words left her lips, Nicholas lightly tightened his arms around her in an almost protective embrace. She said, "I can fly so much better than three years ago. I'm stronger and...so are you."

It was true. Nicholas knew he was stronger, and he could tell that she was stronger. At least physically. He remember that the last time they were together, these roles were reversed. Mattie was the protector. Nicholas was a wreck. Now, he was holding her, trying to be her rock after not being there for her for so many years. She sounded so tired. Like she'd given up. He carefully slipped his hand under the back of her shirt and caressed her wing softly, the one that had previously been so terribly damaged.

"Your feathers grew back," he muttered into her hair. The wing felt almost completely repaired. There was a roughness along where the tear had previously been, but it was mostly covered by small, growing feathers. He withdrew his hand and held her again. "I'm not going anywhere this time. Whatever comes next, we'll face together. Okay? I promise."

She shivered at his touch, those gentle fingers stroking her wing where it had been damaged all those years ago. It was always that wing that bothered her after training, always that one that ached so terribly if she slept on it wrong while the other one only went a little numb as with any arm or leg. But this felt nice. Mattie felt that she should have pulled away and that she shouldn't be letting him touch her like this. She couldn't, though; it was either that she was too tired to resist or that she liked it. More likely it was a little of both.

Her eyes shut slowly and she held onto him, tight, tighter. The alcohol was starting to get to her and she felt as though if she were to let go she might fall over. But even if she weren't drunk and emotional, she might have still clung on.

"We'll face it together," she agreed groggily. Did she forgive him? She didn't know. Her world had shrunken to just the two of them, standing there, for now. To his smell. To his soft words. Mattie sighed.